Twin Daggers
by StoriUrahara
Summary: Demetri is a young Imperial man just entering his twenty-third year. A life of murder and death has made him a sadistic killer; unmoved by death and untouched by fear. A freelance assassin with no aim in life, Demetri is offered a place in the Dark Brotherhood. OC/Antoinetta Marie. T for cursing, blood, and some smut. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer; I make no effort to claim that I own The Elder Scrolls Four; Oblivion. The rights and ownership belong solely to Bethesda; I am simply one of their many players :) Demetri, however, belongs to me.**

**-x-**

The little boy whimpered as he watched the man in black wipe his father's blood off on his mother's corpse, staining her white dress crimson. The man had knocked a little while earlier, and the boy's mother had answered, despite the late hour. As soon as the door was shut behind him, the hooded man had whipped out a dagger and slit his mother's throat, sending her lifeblood spraying out of her neck in an arc of red. With a strangled scream, his father had run at the man with a bread knife, but the man in black had simply dodged and sunk his blade between the crazed man's ribs, killing him instantly.

Now, the man was staring at the young boy, his green eyes narrowed to slits and gleaming with malice. The light casted by the fire illuminated the man's face, and the boy gulped as he stared at the murderer before him.

He had nearly white hair, despite his young features, and his dark eyes were set above his low cheekbones and thin mouth. His black attire seemed to absorb any light that touched it and his silver dagger was still red with the blood of his recent victims.

A bright smile spread across the hooded figure's face, and a red tongue flicked out to lick the edge of the bloody dagger. A strangled cry of terror ripped through the boy's throat as he watched the man approach him, before his screams stopped forever.

-x-

Demetri shot upright, his bedsheets clinging to his clammy skin and his breathing heavy. He had the same nightmare nearly every night , but never had he seen himself from another's perspective. As the dream faded away as it always did, his heart slowed and his breathing became slower. His senses returning, he felt a dark presence in the room and tensed.

"How long have you been standing there?" He asked into the dark. "Not many can sneak up on me, and even fewer can remain undetected as long as you have." The shadow chuckled before it stepped into the flickering candlelight, revealing it to be a man cloaked in a black robe, his pale, gaunt face peering out of the drooping hood.

"I am Lucien Lachance, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. And you..." The man cocked his head. "You are a killer. A taker of life. A harvester of souls. You are a cold-blooded killer, capable of taking life without mercy or remorse. Your work, your deathcraft, pleases the Night Mother. And so, I come to you with an offering. An opportunity to join our, rather unique family."

"The Dark Brotherhood," Demetri smiled matter-of-factly. "I've been waiting for one of you to show up for some time now."

"So, I have your rapt attention. Splendid." Lucien's voice betrayed amusement. "Now listen closely. On the Green Road to the north of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family."

"Rufio will die by my hand," Demetri bowed his head, a smug grin on his face.

"Excellent! Now please, accept this token from the Dark Brotherhood. It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood. May it serve your endeavors well." Lachance drew an ebony dagger from his drooping sleeves and passed it to Demetri, gingerly holding it by the cross-guard. Demetri took it and tested the weight of it in his hands, satisfied with the balance. Looking up to thank the Speaker, he saw nothing where Lucien Lachance had stood only moments before. Chuckling to himself, Demetri tossed off the bed sheets and hopped off the bed, bending to retrieve his backpack before leaving the one-room house, laughing to himself as he tossed a coin on the blood-stained corpse of a farmer.

"Thanks for the bed, folks," he waved at the dead eyes of the farmer's wife. "Blessings of the Nine to you and your kin." With a final laugh at his own antics, Demetri sent three fireballs bursting from his palm, igniting the wood and straw of the small home as he walked away.

-x-

Demetri lounged on the old tattered sheets of Rufio's bed, lazily nibbling on an apple core. Thankfully, most of the blood that had spilled from the old man's neck had been soaked up by his own tunic, and the sheets were only a little bit blood-stained.

"Easier than I thought you'd be, old man," Demetri smirked, flipping the core off the end of the bed and in to the dead man's lap. "Figured I might have to drag you down here and strangle the life out of you, but you were fast asleep when I got here. I guess you'll never nap during the day ever again, eh, old man?" Demetri laughed again, settling in to the tattered mattress.

"Now I just wait for Lachance," he sighed contently. Shifting one last time, he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to take him.

-x-

He was in the nightmare again, the memory playing out like it always did. He walked in, killed the wife, killed the husband, and then stabbed the son in the throat. But when Demetri didn't wake, he wondered what was different. This time, he knelt beside the bed, where he found a girl trembling and crying, trying to stifle her sobbing with the hem of her apron.

Demetri grinned as he pulled her out from under the bed by her hair, her cries of pain and fear only heightening his bloodlust. Suddenly, the girl wrenched herself free, kicking Demetri in the groin before she dashed out of his sight. Gritting his teeth, Demetri roared and whirled, his eyes falling on the girl as she desperately tugged at the door latch. He laughed at her, throwing his head back at the sight of a helpless little girl banging her tiny fists against the door, sobbing uncontrollably and wailing for her dead parents.

Gripping the hilt of his dagger, Demetri strode over to where the little girl was slumped against the door, her head pressed between her legs. As his shadow fell over her, she whimpered pitifully and hugged herself tighter.

-x-

Demetri woke suddenly, his eyes snapping open and darting around the dark room.

"Fitful sleep," Lachance remarked from the shadows, unveiling his chameleon spell.

"Only because I was surprised," Demetri replied, fully awake as he sat up. "It seems your presence gives my dreams strange twists." Lachance chuckled.

"I tend to have that effect on people," he drawled. "Now heed these words. The slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution; your signature. Rufio's blood; the ink. As a Speaker of the Black Hand, I directly oversee a particular group of family members. You will join that group, and fulfill any contracts given." Demetri nodded, but Lachance only acknowledged his movement by continuing.

"You must now go to the city of Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the eastern wall. Enter the basement, and attempt to open the black door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly; 'Sanguine, my Brother.' You will gain entrance to the Sanctuary. Once inside, speak with Ocheeva." Demetri simply nodded again, mentally drawing a map of Cheydinhal to pinpoint the abandoned house. After a moment of racing through the buildings, he found one with a crumbling stone fence and boarded up windows, with similar boards thrown over the door.

"We must now take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done. I'll be following your progress. Welcome to the family." With that, Lucien Lachance dissipated into the shadows, and Demetri was left to the dark.

"Well, that sounds simple enough," Demetri remarked to the ceiling. "Just like that, I'm in. Figured there might be a ritual or a ceremony, but I guess not." Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Demetri hopped off and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

As he left the inn, he told the proprietor that Rufio would no longer be needing his room.

-x-

Demetri stepped easily over the crumbling stone fence in front of the abandoned house, stopping in front of the door and studying it. It was boarded up tight, and as Demetri wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible, he wanted to avoid tearing the planks right off the door.

A closer look and the heightened senses of his fingertip showed hairline incisions in the wood, lining up perfectly with where the edges of the door were. The only question was if the cuts went all the way through, but Demetri's puzzlements were assuaged by a quick slide of his finger down the back one of the slits. They were even angled diagonally so that one could open the door and close it without the wood jamming or not lining up the way it should.

A quick test of the latch revealed that the door was locked, but that was easily overcome by a lockpick and Demetri's deft fingers. Gently pushing the door open, Demetri slid in and pressed it shut, not waiting for the click to scan the room.

There were scattered bits of furniture strewn about the room; everything was in literal pieces. Chunks of wardrobe laid atop a rotting table that had long been broken in two and a chest with a smashed lid and crushed sides squatted beside a barrel tipped on its side, both riddled with cobwebs. Demetri stepped over a pile of molding food and ducked under a sagging floorboard from the floor above him on his way to the other side of the entryway, where another door sat in the darkness.

Noting the rusted hinges and latch, Demetri threw his weight against it, feeling the rotted wood give way and leaping back just as the door caved in, slouching to the floor in a mess of rusted metal and splintered wood. Hopping lightly over the mess, Demetri trotted down the crumbling stone steps, coming in to a large cellar. Peering into the darkness, he made out a section where many bricks had been tugged free, and the area behind was a small tunnel entrance.

Ripping out a few more bricks to make more room for himself, Demetri slipped through the hole and crept into the tunnel. The walls slowly began to take on an eerie red glow as the path sloped down, and Demetri froze as a door came into view.

It was darker than a night in the deep forest, and it shimmered like it was made of obsidian. A huge white skull emblazoned on the door loomed down at him, and a handprint in the center of its forehead had a circle carved around it, shining across the stone like a sun would. A woman held a dagger in one hand and a child in another, and the blade was pointed at four other children who seemed to be afraid.

"The Night Mother and the Children of Sithis," Demetri whispered to himself. Suddenly, he was paralyzed with an eerie feeling of foreboding. Then, almost immediately after, a disembodied voice hissed inside his head.

"What... is the color... of night?" The speech was broken in irregular patterns, and after a moment of silence, Demetri's chest tightened, as if some malevolent spirit was trying to squeeze an answer out of him.

"Sanguine, my Brother," he managed, trying his best to keep his voice steady. His ribs felt like they were being crushed between two monstrous stones. The sensation released him, and the door unlocked. Opening it with his fingertips, he revealed a large room with a short ceiling with four support columns holding it up. An Argonian woman was waiting in the center of the room, and as he approached her she strode out to greet him.

"Greetings! Greetings! I am Ocheeva, mistress of this Sanctuary." Dipping into a polite bow, Ocheeva continued. "Lucien has told me all about you. Let me welcome you to the Dark Brotherhood!" Demetri nodded and glanced about the room, not seeing the robed man anywhere.

"I was under the impression Lachance would be here himself," Demetri said, somewhat offended. "Does he not think it important to greet a new member?"

"Dear Brother, please do not take any offense," Ocheeva replied gently. "Lucien isn't here very often. His duties with the Black Hand keep him very busy, so he trusts me to keep the Sanctuary in order." Demetri nodded again, accepting Ocheeva's explanation.

"So, what now?" He asked after a few moments passed.

"Now?" A toothy grin spread across Ocheeva's scaled features, showing every gleaming, pointed tooth in her mouth. "Now, my dear, sweet Brother, you begin."

**-x-**

**The next chapter should be up pretty soon; I have it mapped out, so I just have to flesh it out :)**

**I hope you all enjoyed!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Just a little warning; this chapter is more on the adult side. I don't do graphic scenes in regard to anything sexual, but it's still for mature audiences.**

**Disclaimer; I make no effort to claim that I own The Elder Scrolls Four; Oblivion. The rights and ownership belong solely to Bethesda; I am simply one of their many players :) Demetri, however, belongs to me.**

**-x-**

The next few weeks were the highlight of Demetri's life. Contract after contract, mark after mark, he killed. Finally, he was being paid to do the thing he loved most in the world; to feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he crept through side streets and forest floors to old forts and pirate ships, ever rising his rank in the Brotherhood.

His Brothers and Sisters were all ease and friendliness; happy murderers chatting about their marks over supper like it was nothing more than small talk. Demetri fit right in, despite him being the only one living from the races of men, besides a woman he had yet to lay eyes on. Apparently, she was to return from a mark in Solstheim soon, and Demetri could meet his final Sister.

Teinaava and Telandril taught him different ways of notching an arrow, and after a refreshing conversation about hunting, Vicente had even offered to convert Demetri to vampirism, which the Imperial politely declined.

M'raaj-Dar, the brooding, foul-mouthed Khajiit, had taken to calling Demetri "Boot-Licker," but as they sent insults back and forth, a fond tone took place in his gruff voice. Ocheeva, who always seemed to be busy with one thing or another, made ample time for him to offer hints and suggestions when the points of a contract were rather vague, and Gogron gro-Bolmog never ceased to make a smile appear on the faces of all those around him, especially Telandril.

It was no secret the two were more than Brother and Sister, as the distinct lack of privacy in the living quarters made very obvious, but the two tried to remain as polite about it as possible, and their Brothers and Sisters greatly appreciated their sense of propriety. Some nights, however, when the whole Sanctuary was drinking heavily in some celebration — the assassins used any and every excuse for a party they could — they were less than socially acceptable.

As another one of those nights was in full swing, Demetri sipped at his tankard of ale contently, watching Teinaava attempting to get Mraaj-Dar's attention with a stuffed toy, amused when the Khajiit batted at it jokingly. It was then when he saw her enter; all grace and poise as she strolled confidently to the table, tossing her bag carelessly in the general direction of the beds as she plopped down and set about ravaging a huge chunk of roasted mutton.

She was beautiful, with the brightest blue eyes and silky blonde hair framing her porcelain face that wasn't marred at all by the sweat and dirt that clung to her slim, delicate features. Her leathers were brown with dirt and her boots were caked with ash, but all Demetri saw was the swell of her breasts beneath her tight cuirass and the way her greaves hugged her curves.

The was no question in his mind that he was aroused; that was made an impossibility as he noticed how painfully tight his own greaves had become. As he blatantly stared at her, imagining putting her in all sorts of compromising positions, she turned suddenly, catching him before he could react. Instead of look away quickly like most would do, or even give a simple smile and turn back to his dinner, he continued watching her, matching her piercing gaze and making his desire clear by flicking his gaze down her body.

The corner of her pale lips curved upward along with the opposing brow, and her eyes wandered over Demetri's broad chest appreciatively. Wordlessly, she stood slowly, never breaking eye contact as she set her tankard down beside her plate of unfinished food. Purposefully, she strode down the corridor she had entered from, making it clear by her intentional glance before she sauntered out of his view that Demetri should follow.

Trying not to make it obvious that he was leaving with her, he lingered at the table a little longer, making sure to chew and swallow every bite of roasted mutton methodically. When the last chunk was properly taken care of, he took a swig of ale, barely feeling the sour liquid burn down his throat. After what seemed like ages, he was finally done, and he rose from the bench like he did at every meal. Briefly thanking Teinaava for the brilliant dinner and promising Telandril he would help her clean the dishes, he followed Antoinetta's path, no longer wondering after his missing Sister.

As he climbed the short steps that led out of the living area, Demetri assumed he would find his Sister waiting for him in the entry hall, or perhaps the training room, as it was always empty during meals. Assassins they might be, they loved coming together and swapping stories over a good meal. Demetri rounded the corner and ascended the final steps, pushing the heavy door outwards.

Antoinetta was leaned against a support pillar, one that was close enough for him to approach quickly yet far enough from the door as to not arouse suspicion if another was to exit. Demetri gave her a wolfish grin as he gave the door a vague shove, already upon her as the heavy iron latch clicked. Their mouths met in a furious dance of passion, and as their tongues tangled, their fingers set to work removing the other's armor.

Demetri had her three times that night; the first against the support pillar, the second just beyond the Black Door, and the final time was on the second floor of the house that was settled above the Sanctuary. Drained and debilitated, Antoinetta didn't even bother to untangle herself from Demetri as she slipped into an exhausted slumber, and Demetri found himself nodding off not long after.

-x-

Despite having the good sense of retrieving their haphazardly strewn clothing before retreating to the abandoned home above, Demetri and Antoinetta's carnal relationship failed to escape the notice of the denizens dwelling within the Sanctuary, but their fellow assassins at least had the decency to pretend they didn't have any knowledge.

Well, Gogron teased Demetri every so often, and M'raaj-Dar never failed to give a sultry wink accompanied by an obscene gesture at Antoinetta any time their paths crossed, but that hardly mattered. It was not as if the two were romantically involved, anyway.

Antoinetta's heart belonged to Lucien LaChance, but as long as her bed was open for him, Demetri was fine with that. In fact, he preferred it that way. It was so much easier than trying to keep up a relationship. If he and Antoinetta had a dispute, they would just have rough makeup sex and move on; there was no need for talking it out. Sure, they had their close times when they let down their walls, but it meant nothing. They were just filling the silence with things they needed to get off their chests.

That was the thing Demetri liked most about his nights with Antoinetta; he could find release in her in every way, and she could do the same with him. They both needed that; she so desperate for any attachment and he in such need of release. He had no time — nor desire — for feelings, and Antoinetta understood that completely. Any other woman would try and get close to him, and would just end up getting in the way and being disappointed when he shut her down. Or dead, if he got a little too irritated. He had slit many a bed warmer from naval to neck, and wasn't afraid to do it again.

But he did feel a little sorry for the poor woman. Each time LaChance would visit to check up on how things were doing or to give Ocheeva and Vicente new contracts, he would either fawn over Antoinetta and her accomplishments or pay her no mind at all. Endlessly playing at hot-and-cold, LaChance seemed to enjoy tormenting Antoinetta, and that was something Demetri could not abide. He even confronted the Speaker once after the man had coldly strode right past Antoinetta's greeting, but the hooded man simply gave a crooked smile and left Demetri's company without so much as a word.

Despite his initial irritation at the man's blatant lack of respect for Antoinetta, Demetri found he could at least tolerate the man. Cold and calculating, the Speaker had an air of authority about him, and his coded words and cryptic phrases produced a chilling sense of unease, as if Sithis himself spoke through his lips.

Antoinetta herself didn't mind, as she voiced to Demetri after an evening of lovemaking, and she even cherished the way LaChance shunned her before fawning over her accomplishments. With that simple disclosure, the subject was dropped, and life continued for the brotherhood of assassins.

Not long after, Demetri received a summons from LaChance himself, and traveled to the Speaker's place of refuge; Fort Farragut. Picking his way past the assortment of various undead creatures led the assassin to the Speaker's living chamber, and thus, to the Speaker himself.

"I have been waiting for you, assassin." the man grinned. "We have not spoken in some time, but I am well aware of your accomplishments within the Dark Brotherhood. That is why I have sent for you. I'm afraid there is a... situation. The time has come to test both your skill and your loyalty to Sithis..."

**-x-**

**Well, that's it! Thanks for reading! :D**


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